but moved by the certainty that whatever came in the days ahead would see them parted, their lives never again entwined, he offered Nicola his hand.
Her green eyes and smile widening, she leapt forward and slid her fingers over his.
Certain words teemed in her head, he steeled himself for their speaking. However, Nicola D’Argent who professed to love him spoke only when they reached camp, and only what was needed to sooner see them packed and astride.
And bound for Wulfenshire.
Chapter Eighteen
The Lord was with them. And then He was not—rather, not with Vitalis. But of greatest import, the word given Lady Hawisa was kept.
Due to an abundance of Normans belatedly sent to East Anglia in answer to the Danes’ arrival and the sack of Peterborough Abbey, Vitalis and Nicola’s northward progress on the day past had been hindered. Often they veered off course to take cover, and the one time they were sighted, it was necessary to go to ground for hours that bled through night into dawn.
Lest word had been sent to Daryl of the possibility the two who evaded capture were those he sought—had the prince not already alerted the traitor his prey was in the wood—this day Vitalis and Nicola had ridden hard to distance themselves beyond the single league gained. Then more riders appeared ahead. Though they numbered four and were armored, two of the Normans were silvered the same as Nicola and one’s head was crowned with gold.
After she confirmed they were her kin, they had continued forward—unaware that as soon as the two parties drew rein, a third would appear, this one over two score strong.
“Almighty!” snarled Guarin, as he peered past Vitalis at pursuers yet distant enough those Normans could not know for certain the identities of the six upon open ground, but not so distant a great spurring would not confirm it.
“You have returned Nicola to us as promised, Vitalis,” Hawisa’s husband said. “Now get yourself to safety. Ride!”
Safety, Vitalis silently scorned as he looked behind to those surely led by Daryl. Though only half advanced, there was little chance of escape. Not only had the cover offered by wood and vegetation thinned the farther they traveled from Thetford, but the enemy were numerous enough to surround and flush him out. Better this, astride and back straight when Zedekiah’s murderer came before him than he become the rabbit Vitalis had thought William’s son.
Nicola gripped his arm. “They draw nigh!” Tears dampened her voice. “Pray, heed my brother. Ride and do not look back.”
He turned his head, not in her direction but that of Guarin, a Norman prisoner over whom once he had been given charge, next Nicola’s half-brother, the fair Dougray who had sought to slay Vitalis as Vitalis sought to slay him, then her cousin whose attempt to retrieve the mantle piece had led to Sir Maël’s capture by Danes and his ransoming, lastly, Hawisa and Guarin’s adopted son, Squire Eberhard.
“Non, I will not run,” he said in Norman-French and dropped his hood to reveal the red about him. Returning to Sir Maël, he saw in this enemy’s eyes that the same as Guarin and Dougray, no longer was he Vitalis’s foe. Were this rebel to run, at best the king’s man would make a pretense of giving chase.
“I think you know that is the traitor, Daryl, who comes for me,” Vitalis said, “that he seeks to gain William’s esteem and gratitude for delivering me to him ahead of you.”
The chevalier inclined his head. “This I know.”
“Just as we know he slew Zedekiah and profaned his body,” Guarin said with anger that revealed he also felt the loss of the smithy he had aided in shaping into a warrior.
Nicola yanked on Vitalis’s arm. “Pray, go!”
He pulled free and, holding Sir Maël’s gaze, said, “I yield to you and trust you will deliver me to your king.”
“Non!” Nicola cried. “Ride, Vitalis!” When he did not respond, she beseeched, “For my sake, make him go, Maël.”
Vitalis snapped his head around. Out of the corner of an eye confirming what his ears told of those thundering forward—that if there had been a chance of escape, it was past—he said, “Enough! As promised, you are returned to your family, and I am resolved to use this opportunity to draw near Daryl ere your cousin passes me to William.”
She gasped, and he looked from tears brimming in her eyes to her menfolk. They understood. Fairly certain they would not interfere were it possible for him to